


Teach Your Heart To Feel

by RainySpringMorning



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Bromantic Stuff, Cherik - Freeform, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5608123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainySpringMorning/pseuds/RainySpringMorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why don't you teach your heart to feel..."</p><p>Disclaimer: X-Men belongs to 20th Century Fox and all that jazz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Your Heart To Feel

**Author's Note:**

> When was the last time I posted a Cherik fic? I started this one a long time ago and I thought I may as well finish it. It wasn't half-bad (in my opinion). It alludes to the post-cred song 'Love Love' - which is where the title comes from - and maybe a bit of DoFP towards the end.

Some twenty years ago, Erik had never thought he would feel anything other than torment and anger again. His mind was a tortured canvas smeared with blood and filth; holes were driven deep into the foundations of his very soul and all that was left at the end of the nightmare was a cage of barbed wire and _so much pain._ Erik wanted nothing more than to forget it all, to unleash it on those who cut into his flesh and even deeper, to make those responsible for making him into the monster he’d become feel every searing moment of his destroyed childhood. From the moment Shaw had uttered _three_ in German and the room shook with the single _bang_ , Erik knew there was no going back. And when the allies swept in and Erik scrambled for freedom, the boy that had entered those gates and lost everything was completely gone.

All that was left was a deep, churning void of menace and a sickening lust for revenge, corrupting the heart of a boy who’d wanted nothing more than a life of simple comforts and love, before it was violently ripped from his grasp and left behind the quaking mess of a man he was now.

“Erik?” Charles looked worried; he was always worried. The moment they first met, Charles had been worried – well, it was more than that. Erik would never forget the chilling comparison of weak hands trying to pull at him while orders, clearer than anything Erik had set down for himself, were blasted into his head. Charles might have been slighter and smaller than Erik, but his powers as a telepath were enough to convince Erik that there was more to life than throwing it away in a careless act. Had Charles _not_ been worried, Erik wouldn’t have been standing there, one hand resting on the doorknob, his eyes fixed on Charles’ face in muted shock.

The reason for Erik’s shock was because Charles was, unknowingly, broadcasting his thoughts straight into his head. In the last hour, they’d sat by the fire playing a game of chess and tilting their grasp on the world with a pleasant bottle of whiskey. It had been a simple conversation between two ordinary men; nothing to indicate the feelings and images Charles had projected from mind to mind as clearly as a television broadcast. Erik won two rounds and Charles won once (“I might be a telepath, but I’m not a cheater,” he’d stated quite frankly). Their light conversation about what had seemed like nothing but good-natured chatter slowly twisted around to the topic no one really wanted to think too hard about. Except for Erik and, based on what he’d picked up from his ending-on-disturbed dreams, Charles. Erik hadn’t told Charles about that little matter, but he suspected that Charles might have figured it out for himself, considering that they’d run into each other every morning with dark circles under their eyes and a pair of matching foul moods. Charles never complained, but Erik always saw through the poorly-covered pity gleaming in Charles’ eyes as he’d shove by, coffee as bitter as his temper sloshing the rims of the white china mug. Erik knew that his dreams scared the telepath, and that it drove Charles to further want to help Erik, but Erik didn’t want help. He could take care of himself as well as anyone.

Erik, tired and wanting to avoid discussing the rapidly every-nearing confrontation that would occur between themselves and Shaw, wished Charles goodnight and headed straight for the door. He’d barely touched the handle with his powers, holding himself from flinging it open before he could turn to Charles and confide in him, when Charles’ mind uttered something Erik had never seen coming:

_There’s more to “not being alone” than just friendship._

Erik didn’t have to think too hard about what Charles’ words might have meant, because along with that loose string of thought came a volley of enough feelings to have knocked the wind out of someone, had it been a blow to the stomach… or something along those lines. There was a sincere tenderness and kindness that ached with so much loneliness and concern that Erik could swear he felt tears in his eyes.

But underneath the spread of feeling was something fierce, something that Erik sensed was a carefully guarded secret that had grown, unwelcome, along the invisible tether. The thicket of emotions vanished abruptly when Charles noticed Erik frozen solid at the door, and he was up and by his side in a matter of seconds, broaching what should have been a simple question, but to Erik, it felt as though it was laced with more feelings than Erik thought a person would possibly feel: “Erik, are you alright?”

Erik looked at Charles wordlessly. The telepath was obviously leaning more towards concern, because he reached out, hesitantly, to rest a hand on Erik’s shoulder. Erik blinked and his eyes drifted to the hand, then met Charles’ eyes again.

“Erik?” Charles repeated, much more softly.

“It’s nothing,” Erik rasped, fighting to raise a shield around the thoughts about to break, and he put on a guarded mask. Charles visibly darkened at this and his hand slid off Erik’s shoulder wretchedly, with unbearable slowness. Erik, not trusting his hands, curled his fingers into his palms and used his powers to turn the doorknob. He stepped out into the hallway, managing to give Charles a polite nod, before turning his back and making for his room, every muscle tense.

 _Erik, is something wrong?_ Charles’ worried voice was suddenly in his head and Erik gasped slightly, guilt and fear coursing over him. Suddenly enraged, Erik flung back an icy, _Stay out of my head, Charles._

 _And if I’d rather stay?_ Erik could almost see the telepath’s coy smirk. The tone was mocking but gentle… no. Charles was testing him, pushing the limits in a brave – but foolish, attempt at winning Erik’s trust.

 _I told you once. I won’t ask you again._ Erik growled, disappearing into his room and letting the door slam. He strode to his bed, exhausted from keeping a tight rein on his thoughts ( _that Charles has, no doubt, already read_ ) and flicked a hand behind him, using his powers to flip the lock on the door.

_Why don’t you teach your heart to feel, my friend?_

Erik rejected the offered advice, persistently blocking out Charles’ increasingly stubborn efforts. He refused to lower himself to a position that invited aid; Charles was not a man who understood what it meant to lose a fight, but Erik wasn’t, and he knew that the telepath would have to learn how it felt rather sooner than later.

Silence ensued and Erik felt relief for it, but not for long. The question ate at his mind, prickling like a sliver under his thumb, too far in to reach and too painful to continue working away at. To feel was to be weak, and the enemy preyed on weakness. Erik had thrown his heart away a long time ago, in the hope that he would be stronger without it, so why was Charles’ question bothering him so deeply?

Why did it speak to him in a way his own questions never had?

The pillow felt too hard under his skull, and the muscles in his neck were tense. He felt coiled, ready to snap with the effort at shielding his mind. And yet Charles continued to eat away at his defenses – defenses that felt feeble and half-hearted. Erik felt the strange desire to let down his guard and welcome Charles’ intuitive mind, but it wasn’t until he began to relax that he realized it was all of Charles’ doing.

His mind hadn’t been shielded at all. Not against the telepath.

 _I’ll come undone,_ Erik pleaded. _Don’t do this to me, Charles. There’s nothing but darkness inside._

 _You cannot honestly believe that. There is more to you than you think. I’ve seen it – felt it._ The sensation of soothing kindness was almost revolting in its unfamiliarity. _Erik, you are not a lost cause. You know this and yet you refuse to understand or accept this._

Erik vaulted upright, hands clenching into the blanket. _Stop it, Charles._

 _You cannot believe I would actually lie to you._ Erik winced at the stab of sore disbelief that rattled the telepath’s mind. _Of all those who could bring you harm, you choose me, the last person who would ever want to hurt you? You offend me, my friend._

The metal on the footboard quivered and curled into rough filigree, spiny swirls shaped from inner turmoil. Erik squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the knowledge that all he did – all he could do – was bring pain.

_Charles… is there more than this?_

_To which do you refer… ah. Yes, Erik._ Amusement chimed like silver bells, and with it, certainty. _There is always more than pain and guilt._

 _And what is it called?_ It was like grabbing at air, his struggle to believe. It refused to take form for him, in a way he could understand. Whatever it was that Charles promised… it wasn’t tangible. Erik burned at the wracking sense of loss. _Tell me._

The knock at the door startled him and he sat up, powers hovering around the lock on the door. He felt Charles’ presence before he could ask and, hesitating for only a heartbeat, snapped the lock to the open position and let the door swing open. Charles entered and pushed the door shut on a gentle swing of its hinges. He crossed the room, a sort of guardedness in his step, his mind quiet. Erik didn’t fear the telepath, but for a moment, he understood that he probably should have. The force of his power was enormous, dangerously so; Charles could have bent Erik to his will time and time again, shaped him into a different man – a soldier with different ideals – so what was stopping him? Was his heart as pure as he made it out to be? Could there be good in men with such power?

Charles folded a leg under him as he sat on the bed across from Erik, facing him. Their eyes met. Charles raised his hands, motioning for Erik to come closer. The metal-bender obeyed wordlessly, leaning forward, tenser than a board. What was Charles going to do? The telepath reached up and, very lightly, touched his fingertips to Erik’s temples. The subtle contact was intimately sudden.

“How is this telling me anything?” Erik knew he sounded bitter. Charles just smiled, the brilliance of the kindness behind it stirring something deep inside of him.

 _There is a name for what you’re looking for, Erik_ , he answered telepathically. _I like to call it ‘hope’._

An intense rush of lightness suddenly broke through the years of tangled steel and rusted iron, a hopeless match to the blaze of spirited light that brought a feeling Erik had never experienced. It washed through him with the tenderness of an embrace and the ferocity of an age-long knowledge. Erik couldn’t imagine any other way to describe it… but he felt as though he were finally waking up from the clinging hold of a nightmare.

Charles released him gently, the maddeningly beautiful sensation softening to a close. Erik opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them, and met the bold blue gaze of the telepath. He now understood the feeling he felt when he faced Charles – when the telepath looked at him in the way he did.

“You have hope for me,” Erik rasped, weak with disbelief at the impossibility.

“I always have, Erik,” Charles said.

_And until you’ve learned how to find hope for yourself, I always will._


End file.
